Secrets Can Not Be Kept
by mysteryklainer
Summary: Kurt has always been alone, but this year he makes a new friend.He plans to have a good year with her, but then if his English class he gets paired up with his worst bully. But Blaine seems to have a big secret...and Kurt will find it out of he kills him. Meanwhile, Jordan gets paired with Santana and they begin a very complicated relationship.full summary inside.Klaine, Santana/OC
1. Chapter 1

Hi! I'm Sami Everett. This is _Secrets Can Not Be Kept_ (SCNBK)! I'm so excited to post this story for anyone who would like to read it. This chapter is mostly Kurt POV, but the story alternates between Jordan (the OC) and Kurt. Eventual Klaine & Eventual Santana/OC. Enjoy!

Summary: Kurt never wanted to go to McKinley high. He went all through freshman year being bullied, especially by Blaine Anderson. But things start to look up when he becomes friends with Jordan Sanchez, a new girl from New Jersey, who also happens to be the only other out kid in the school. But then he gets paired with his worst enemy (Blaine) as a year-long partner. As they sort of get to know each other, Kurt finds he feels things about Blaine he doesn't want to feel. Could the homophobic singer feel the same way? He keeps showing hints of it. But Blaine also has some big secret that no one knows, and Kurt is determined to figure it out- maybe then he can solve the mystery of the boy and get over him. Meanwhile, Jordan starts having a very complicated relationship with one very complicated Santana Lopez when they are paired up in the same class. Are they friends, or something more? Is Santana hiding something as well? Maybe finding out Santana's secret will help Jordan escape her messed-up past. Kurt and Jordan both plan to find their partner's secret... but things never really go as planned in life, do they? Future Angst.

Wow long summary... okay here goes nothing!

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**_KURT POV_**

I never wanted to go to McKinley high school. When I was in Primary and Middle School, I went to the younger sections of Dalton Academy. Have you heard of it? It's a private school, all-boys. They have a strict no-bullying policy which back then I took for granted. I was on scholarship; I was not half as rich as the other boys, but they humored me and let me come along with them wherever they went. Sometimes where we went was not a good place, but back then I was naïve and followed the crowd. I was a boarder, so my parents were none the wiser to the bad things I was doing.

Anyways. Back to McKinley. I switched there my freshman year (last year), and I hated it with a passion, as I do now. Being the new kid, I got (and still have) the pleasure of a dumpster toss every freaking morning, at least one slushee in the face a day, locker slams, slurs, (of course they all thought I was gay as soon as they looked at me. My looks can be a curse sometimes. I wished I was straight to prove them wrong) and anything else you can think of, really. At first I would stand up for myself and tell them off, but all they would do is laugh. And I stopped having the energy, really, as Dad became more and more depressed. Which brings me to the reason of the switch: after my mother died, my dad became really, really depressed (as I just told you) and sort of just... stopped working, stopped doing anything, stopped functioning really. So that summer when she died, I switched schools to take care of my dad. Some days I wonder, though: Did I do the right thing? Is it worth it when I'm miserable all the time? And then I will tell myself, yes, yes it is. How could you be so selfish?

Today, I stand outside my school, a.k.a. hell. I'm hoping maybe this year I might make some friends? Maybe I could try out for glee club, but I'd never get in. Plus, I hate everyone in that club. They're the most popular people in the school, and they're also douchebags. I wonder if they actually like to perform or whether they just want to be popular. Probably the latter. The lead singer and most popular guy in the school, Blaine Anderson shoves past me. He scowls.

"Watch it, fag." He spits, and struts off. I hate that kid. I hate him so much. He is the worst out of all of them, a homophobic asshole. I flip him off as he walks away. He unfortunately doesn't see.

"He seems like a real dick." Someone says behind me. Thinking it's someone in their own conversation, I sigh and start to walk down the hall once more.

"Hey, are you always this rude?" I realize the voice is directed towards me. I turn around to see a short girl with tan skin and brown hair and brown eyes with flecks of gold coming toward me.

"Oh." I blink. "Sorry. No one.. No one really talks to me so I just assumed you were in your own conversation. What did you say?" I'm surprised at how nervous I feel; has it really been so long that I've had a proper conversation with someone?

"He can't be, he doesn't have one." I mutter to myself. The girl, apparently having heard me, snorts with laughter. She walks closer.

"I'm Jordan." She says, sticking out her hand. I'm a bit surprised but I shake it. "I'm new, actually." She says. "I came from New Jersey." At my raised eyebrows hastens to tell me, "Not the Snooki part or the Newark part. It's near New York, called Montclair. It's suburban." I laugh at her explanation of where she was from. But why is she explaining this all to me?

"Okay..." I say as though it's a question. Cocking her head to the side a bit, she shrugs her shoulders and asks,

"What's your name?" Oh. After her long explanation I had forgotten to tell her my own name. I'm tempted to tell her, 'Well, according to the kids in this town my name is stupid fag, but you can call me Kurt.' Her jaw drops and she stares at me.

"Don't say that word!" She borderline yells at me. Oh. I had accidentally said it aloud...

Her reaction surprised me. Most kids in this town think of the slur as normal vocabulary. I look around nervously to make sure no one noticed the outburst.

"Sorry." I say, hushed.

"So you're gay?" She asks.

"Um, yeah." I laugh nervously

"Ditto." She grins. I feel like all the air has been knocked out of me.

"C-c-cool." I stutter. This is a surprise. All the gay kids here are so far in the closet they're in Narnia. But this girl is out and proud. It makes me smile.

"So what grade are you in?" She inquires.

"I'm a sophomore."

"Me too! What homeroom?" I check my schedule.

"I have… Waters."

"Are you serious? That's awesome! This is gon' be awesome!" She has a loud voice and is very excitable, this girl. Anything and everything seems to make her happy. I like it. It's refreshing. We walk together to our homeroom and sit next to each other. Have I really made an actual friend? It's really surreal, but it makes me happy… a feeling I haven't felt in a while. We sit down and our homeroom teacher, Mr. Waters, blunders in, slouching and stumbling.

"Hello, class." He mumbles, his bald head shining in the dim lights of the classroom. His eyes are drooping a bit and he sinks down in a chair. "I'll be your homeroom teacher for the year. I may also teach some of you Algebra II." Jordan scrunches up her nose and leans in to me, whispering,

"Dude, are all teachers here like that? Because if we're going to have all alcoholic teachers with hangovers, I might have to move back to New Jersey." She's joking, of course, but she's right; our chubby teacher is still slouching in his seat, his eyes fluttering open and closed like he's trying not to fall asleep. Said eyes have large, dark circles under them, and his long beard looks like a big grey bush. I giggle, deciding to let the _dude_ slide.

"You're right." He hasn't even said anything else; is he snoring?

"Do you have 'im for math?" She asks me.

"Um…" again I check my schedule. "Oh, I do." I say disappointedly. She glares at me.

"That's a good thing, you dunce, that's an easy A. A+ even, lucky bastard." I see where she's coming from. Yeah, maybe this could be good. You know what? Maybe this might be a decent year. Who knows? Jordan and I compares schedules and find we actually are in the same English ("Yay! Now English will be my even more favorite subject!" I laugh at her grammatical error as she says she loves English class.), French ("Fuck, I hate French!") and AP World History ("Well, maybe you can make stupid history fun.")

The bell rings and Mr. Waters drones, "Goodbye, boys and girls. Have a nice day." He sounds so sincere. Okay. Well today, my first period class is AP World History, with Jordan. The girl walks up behind me, grinning, and says,

"I could beat you there." I raise an eyebrow.

"Are we five now?"

"Common Kurt, please?" So we race, like we're little five year old children running to their mother. I feel like I already know Jordan so well. She is ahead of me and she slips into the classroom, a smirk firmly on her chase.

"Come on, you got a head start!" I yell at her. And suddenly I crash into someone and my belongings-along with me- go crashing to the floor. I shake my head and begin to gather my things. A hand give me my pencil case.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't-" I stop when I see who's handing me the pencil case. It was Blaine. So instead of finishing off my apology, I narrow my eyes and shove past him again, not even bothering to help him pick up his stuff, or thank him. I walk into the classroom, and my heart sinks when I see there are no available seats next to my new friend. She's about to move when the teacher walks in.

"Class!" She says, sounding awfully happy for a teacher. "My name is Misses Stadler, and I will be your World History teacher. Now take your seats, these are where you'll be sitting for the rest of the semester." Seeing Jordan get up, she says sternly, "Sit back in your seat, Misses I-Don't-Know-Your-Name-Yet. No switching seats." I sit down in the last available seat… in the front row, next to the boy I hate so much. Talk about bad luck. Misses Stadler begins to talk about the course. She talks for around twenty minutes, and after she's done explaining and handing out packets and things we'll need, she tells us,

"Alright. So this course is a bit different than others… you will be assigned a partner that you will work with on most assignments over the year. Anytime we have partnered projects, this person is the one you will be paired with. No switching." She beings counting us off in twos, asking us our names and pairing us up, and… oh no no no no…  
"Name?" She asks me.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Name?" She asks Blaine.

"Blaine Anderson."

"Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson… you two are partners." Great. This is just my luck. To my surprise, Blaine is acting awkwardly and says,

"Alright, so… she said to start with the first Chapter, First Section of the book, right?"

"Um, yeah." We open our books to page 1 and start to read. When I finish, I grumble,

"She's assigning us a project on the first day? Are you kidding me?" Blaine jolts up, looking incredulous.

"How the hell did you read that fast?" Kurt shrugs.

"Fast reader, I guess." Blaine shakes his head and turns back to his book, eyebrows furrowed. His expression slowly turns to one of confusion and disbelief.

"Your task is to write a paper on the partner you have been assigned. Design a set of questions to ask your partner and create a thesis statement based on the answers. Write your paper as though you do not personally know the person." Blaine reads, sounding mystified. Great. This is just great. I look over at Jordan to see who she got paired with. She's laughing and talking animatedly with… oh god, the poor girl got paired with Santana Lopez. She's also in Glee club, and if that doesn't give me enough of a reason to hate her, her being the school slut sure as hell does. I bet there's no one guy in our grade- hell, our school, she hasn't slept with. Besides me, of course. I wonder what they're talking about.

_**JORDAN POV**_

I saw Kurt get paired with that asshole we saw in the hall. I feel bad for him, but I'm selfishly more focused on my own partner possibilities: To my right, an african american dude with a large nose and a buzz cut, who's picking his nose and wearing a letterman jacket. To my left, a latina girl. She's bored and not even trying to hide it, chewing gum with perfectly straight teeth. Her feet are on her desk, exposing tan, muscles thighs. Her brown eyes are examining long red fingernails, dark straight hair up in a ponytail. As the teacher walks over to us, I realize the jock as just been paired up… meaning I'm with the girl to my left. For the whole year.

"Alright you two. Names?"

"Jordan Sanchez."

"Santana Lopez." Santana. Her name was similar to my last name, but pretty. Like her.

"You two are partners." Miss Stadler says. "Open your books and get cracking!" Santana immediately delves into her book, but before she can read much, I interrupt,

"I'm Jordan." I stick out my hand, but she ignores it, not even glancing up.

"So I've heard." She says dryly. I frown and turn to my book. Could I be stuck with a jerk all year? I sigh and quietly and start to read as well.

""Hey." I look up to see Santana. "I'm sorry, I'm just pissed I'm not paired with my best friend. Well, sort of best friend." I'm not going to pry, and the way she says it makes it clear I'm not welcome to ask anyway. But I still can't help but wonder.

"S'alright." I tell her. "I can be a bitch when I'm pissed too." She raises her eyebrows and I hasten to explain. "I'm not sayin' that you were bein' a bitch… I'm just…" I trail off. The girl beside me looks highly amused. "I can't win here, can I?"

"No, you can't." She agrees, sounding cross, but the small smile she wears tells me she's not mad. We both turn back to our books and begin to read the section. The assignment surprise me; it's very different from any paper I've ever had to write. But with Santana, maybe it could actually be fun.

**_KURT POV_**

At the end of class, I ask Blaine for his number. He looks at me like I have two heads.

"Um, yeah. I don't swing that way. Sorry." There's a bit of a condescending tone that confuses me for a moment. Them I realize: he thought I was asking him out?

"No, you stupid ignorant bastard." He looks shocked. "I'm not asking you out. The thought of dating you makes me sick. We're partners, unfortunately for me, and I need your number so we can work on the project. Don't worry, I wouldn't ask you out of even deign to have a voluntary conversation with you if you were the last guy on earth." By that time Blaine is red with embarrassment,. He takes out a piece of paper and scrawls out his number, folding it and handing it to me, avoiding eye contact.

"I'll call you." I say shortly, still mad. I take the paper and grab my books, looking over my shoulder at him. "Don't worry, I won't sext you. I know that's what you were thinking. But the fact is, the thought is appalling. With all of these nonexistent thought being conversed I may barf." Maybe that may have been a bit much, but I storm out so dramatically it would give Rachel Berry (who is famous for her over-the top storm-outs in our school) a run for her money.

**_JORDAN POV_**

Class ends and I actually almost groan. Santana and I had spent the whole time time after reading talking. She's actually really cool, yeah, a little mean, but smart and funny. She is also very guarded. It makes me wonder what the hell she's hiding. We exchange numbers.

"This is gonna actually be fun!" I say excitedly. So sometimes I'm a little over the top.

"Don't get your hopes up." She replies wryly, rolling her eyes.

But I am getting my hopes up. I have a year to figure out this girl. And I will.

* * *

Hope it was decent! R&R please?

-Sami


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! So from now on I'll be adding dates to each chapter so it's less confusing. I hope you like the new chapter. :) I wasn't sure if it was all too rushed, but I've never been a patient person and I don't like slow books, so this is how it turned out. Sorry for mistakes last chapter & in this one probably, (typos, grammar, etc.) feel free to correct me ;) This is mostly Kurt again, but you find out A LOT about Jordan and I drop little hints... that's it for another hideously long author's note that you probably don't read anyways.. (I know I don't..) And sorry it took so long.

* * *

**_Wednesday, September 6th_**

**_KURT POV_**

Blaine and I arranged to meet at the Lima Bean today. I'll admit I'm still slightly angry, but I've convinced myself I have to look past it so that I don't fail this year. School is the only thing that's going to get me out of Lima… and I plan to get out of here as quickly as possible. As soon as I graduate high school, I'm out of here. I finish getting ready for school and head out the door. Jordan and I have been meeting right by the dumpster in the morning, because that's where we're going to be anyway in the mornings. I'll admit, while I feel bad for making her popularity drop with mine, but it's sort of nice to have someone in the dumpster beside me, as awful as that sounds.

I finish getting dressed and grab my backpack, heading out the door.

"'Bye, dad. Love you." I say softly to the figure laying on the couch on the living room before I go. No response. Sighing, I walk out and close the door behind me. I hop into my dad's car (well, I call it my car because he hardly ever drives anyway). Yes, I know how to drive. My dad was a mechanic before he stopped working. So when I was twelve, he taught me how to drive in an almost abandoned part of town. much to my mother's chagrin. He always told me he could only drive when he said so, and only when he could be with me. Now, he's hardly even awake to give me permission, let alone come with me, so I use it on my own.

When I get to school, I park and hop out. Jordan and I had arranged to meet outside homeroom a few minutes before it starts. I get there a few minutes late and am surprised when my friend's not there. She wasn't late yesterday, and she said she hardly ever was.

* * *

**_JORDAN POV_**

I wake up this morning to a blaring alarm. I groan and put my pillow over my head. Connor comes in, clapping loudly.

"Let's go!" He yells at me. "Hurry up!" I curse under my breath at him.

"Jordan Avery, I thought I told you not to curse!" He scolds.

"Shut the fuck up. Why're you so happy?" I respond spitefully. He doesn't reply and literally skips out of the room. We go through this every morning. He is _way_ too awake and happy for this early in the morning, I curse at him, he reprimands me, I curse at him again, he ignores me and I make some comment. Today, I yell down the hall,

"God, Connor, anyone would think you were the gay one in the family!" He ignores me and I decide to get up and dressed because I can't be late. First I have to wake up Mikey. walk into his room, turning on the light and yanking off the converse.

"Gettup." I say crossly, impatient because I can't be late. I can't fall into my old patterns. "_Gettup!" _He sits up, rubbing his eyes, then slamming them shut.

"Why're you talkin' so loud? Oww… it's so fuckin' bright.."

"Fuck Michael, are you hungover? You told me you were done with this shit!" I hiss. He looks at me, eyes squinting.

"I dunno, Jojo."

"Don't call me that. Get up your ass. Do you want Connor to find out?" Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing the right thing not telling. I looked up symptoms for addicts. Drop in attendance and performance at school? Check. Sudden mood swings? Check. Sudden need for money? Check. He's always asking for money from me… and for some reason I always give it to him. There are so many symptoms and so many nights he's come home tripping over his own feel and slurring his words… and I could tell and help him… but I can't. He's my twin brother. And I'm not a rat. So I pull on his arm

"_Gettup, _Mikey." He grumbles something, but stands up, stumbling over to his dresser. He begins to take off his underwear and I raise my arms in surrender, backing out of the room.

"I'm out. I don't plan on seeing your dick _again."_

Conner drops me off at school. Mikey's going to go to some boarding school called Dalton. I'm betting the stupid bastard'll get kicked out in less than two weeks. I check my watch. Shit! I'm late!

* * *

**_KURT POV_**

Homeroom is almost over, and I'm worried. Jordan still isn't here. I tap my foot on the floor, staring at my watch. Finally I sigh in relief when she walks in with a late pass and an apologetic smile on her face. She slides into the seat beside me.

"re you alright?" I ask.

"Fine. My brother." She says curtly, not looking at me.

"I didn't know you had a brother." Her eyes widen and she looks to me.

"Uh, yeah, a little brother… Tommy. He's in middle school and took forever to get ready." There's something off about her, but I ignore it. The bell rings and we head to our respective classes.

* * *

Three o'clock, school is over. Three-thirty, I am due to meet Blaine at the coffee shop. So here I sit with my Grande Non-Fat mocha, waiting for the stupid brat. He's late. Great- he's one of those kids that's late for everything. At three-fourty-one, the boy saunters in. He doesn't even glance at me, and takes _forever _to order, like he and everyone else behind him have all the time in the world. He gets his coffee (I see he finally decided on a medium drip) and sits down next to me. It's now three-fourty-eight.

"You're late." I say, annoyed. He shrugs like it doesn't matter.

"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all. But I don't snap at him because I actually feel bad for things I do- in this case, snapping at him the other day, even if he deserved it.

"So do you have your questions?"

"What?"

"Do you have your questions?"

"I can't hear you." I can barely hear him as well, so I stand up, gesturing for him to follow. We walk outside with our coffees.

"It's really loud in there. Do you want to…" I hesitate, but then decide it's going to happen anyway; we're yearlong partners, unfortunately. "Do you want to work at my house?" He shrugs again. We migrate to my car and I unlock it. We get in.

"You can drive?"

"Yeah." He doesn't ask, and for that I'm grateful. I plug in my iPod and put in inn shuffle. One of my favorite songs comes roaring out of the speakers.

'_If you were gay, I'd shout-_' I smile at the song but just as quickly as it came on, Blaine's arm shoots out and he turns it off. But of course he hates that song. We're almost there, and I slow the car, suddenly realizing what I'm doing. All I know about this asshole is that he's just that. And my dad…

Well, it's too late now. I pull into the driveway.

"You have to stay silent." I tell him as we get out of the car. It doesn't seem like he's planning to talk anyway, but I have to make sure. For once I'm hoping my dad is asleep on the couch as normal. I open the door slowly as to be as quiet as possible. I creep and peer over the large blue couch. Sure enough, Dad's passed out. I beckon Blaine inside. He looks around, attempting to conceal his disgust and failing miserably. We tiptoe upstairs. Closing the door, I flop onto my bed and flip open my laptop. It always gives me a strange sense of pride. It took one and a half years, many many news papers, seemingly hundreds of crying babies, and lots of awful parents to get the money to buy it. I worked really hard for it. Blaine took one look at it and said,

"That's a really old laptop. You should get a new one." Furious, I slam it shut and turn to him. How dare he ridicule the possession I worked so hard to get?

"Not all of us can ask Mommy Dearest to buy us new expensive things, _Blaine."_ I spit out his name as though it's poison. He looks down to the floor, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"What, Blaine, don't want to sit on a bed without silk sheets?" He only purses his lips and sits down on the bed as I've told him to. Yes, I'm being a bit of a jerk. But he bullied me all year last year, and while I intend to be civil, as I've said, I don't intend to forgive him right away. I don't intend to be nice, either. I open the laptop once again and pull up a new document.

"Alright, this will actually be easier." I tell him. "Now I can just put it directly on my computer. Bring yours next time. I'm assuming you have the newest model, considering you critiqued mine." He seems to want to sink away. It's a bit strange; he almost also seems to be a completely different boy, not speaking, eyes cast down, almost shrinking inside himself. It is confusing, because the boy I know is so outspoken, never missing a chance for an insult. He's the only one of my tormentors who has any wit or smarts about him. But all of his bravado is gone. Honestly, he looks like a scared little kid. He looks like… me, when they throw me into dumpsters, and make me feel so worthless. Am I doing that to him? At this realization I take on a gentler tone.

"So, Blaine, would you like to ask or answer first?" He looks up, surprised at my now gentle tone.

"I-I would like to get answering over with, if you please." He says softly. Wait. Did he just _stutter? _And did he just say _if you please? _There's something really off. He looks so anxious, like I'm going to _hurt _him… and I feel sick when I realize I like it. I feel sick because that's probably exactly how all of the bullies felt when they saw me like that.

"Alright." I say, trying to sound confident and _not _like I'm going to be sick. "Number one: Where and when were you born?"

"February 16th, 1995, Westerville, Ohio."

"Number two…"

* * *

Around six o'clock that night, I am lying on my bed, lost in my thoughts. Blaine. He'd actually ended up opening up a little… and wasn't being a jerk. He didn't make one joke about my sexuality or about me being poor or about the posters in my room or the clothes I was wearing. He was actually… pretty nice. As I talked to him, I accidentally started letting my guard down. We were talking and laughing and joking like… friends. It was really, really weird. He was like a totally different person. Did he change? But at the same time, I'm remembering the boy who pushes me into lockers, the one that went, "Hey fag!" On the first day without me even saying a word. I remember the boy who tossed me into dumpsters and made me… never mind. Suddenly my phone starts to ring. I dive to get it before it wakes up Dad. I pick it up without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?

"Kurt?"

"Hey, Jordan!"

"Kurt, could you meet me at that coffee place in town?"

"The Lima Bean?"

"Yeah, that." I check the clock; it's 11:37.

"It's going to be closed.

I sneak outside, which proves to be pretty easy. Dad doesn't even stir when I trip and fall on the stairs. I hop into my car and drive off. When I arrive at the Lima Bean, I get out of the car and a crisp, cool breeze hits me. I shiver, and wish I'd thought to bring a jacket.

"Jordan?" I call to the empty parking lot.

"I'm here." Oh. It's not so empty after all.

"How did you manage to get here?" I ask her.

"I stole my brother's car." She admits sheepishly. My eyes widen. She quickly changes the subject. She knows I can drive (of course she knows nothing but my father, but still) so it's no question how I'd gotten here. But I had no idea she could drive.

"So you want to know why I asked ya to come here in the middle a the night or what?" Her speech always mystified me; sometimes she spoke very formally with excellent vocabulary, then other times, she'd say things like 'I ain't got it' or 'I'm gon' go to to the grocery store'. It was very strange, because while she had the same personality, the girl seemed like a different person.

"Yes, I do." I tell her. I was actually beginning to grow fatigued, and wished she would make this quick.

"Okay." She says, leaning in close. "Ya know Santana?" I nod. "As ya know, we're partners, and…" She trails off, a goofy smile on her face.

"Well?" She jolts as though just realizing I am here.

"She kissed me."

* * *

**_JORDAN POV_**

Santana's house reminded me of my neighborhood before Mom married Scott. The filthy bastard. Just because he's rich he thinks he can…

Anyway. The house was small, with two floors and a few rooms on each floor, though the Lopez's only own the first of these floors. Santana and her younger sister share the second bedroom on their floor. Her sister's pretty cool, 10, and I first saw Jayden the moment I stepped into the house.

"San!" The girl chirped, running up to her older sister. "I did it!" Santana didn't even reply. She groaned instead.

"Ma!" She called. "I thought you said you wouldn't be home?" Her mother's response from the kitchen reminded me of what my own mother's would be,

"Yeah, well, things change, life goes on, fuckin' deal with it. If you don't wanna spend no time wit us then don't come home!" She came into the room we were in (is it it living room?) muttering, "Stupid girl, thinks imma listen to her. She got another thing comin'." She glared at the both of us. "You fuckin' this one too?" She addressed her daughter, but gestures to me.

"Ma!" Santana exclaimed, sounding horrified. "I never fucked a girl and I never ever will!" Her mother humphed and left the room.

"Please don't tell anyone about this." Santana said, turning to me. "I thought she wouldn't be home. My mother is a horrible old woman."

"I heard that!"

"Don't care!" I ignored the exchange of mother and daughter and replied,

"S'alright. My mum was just that same."

"Was?" I laughed nervously.

"Was, did I saw was, I meant she is like that and she is living with me and we are one big happy, miserable family, my mom, my brother Tony and I…" I shut my mouth because a) she was looking at me funny and b) I'd just told more lies than Mikey tells in an average day.

"That's great for you." She says, back to her typical sarcastic self. "Let's go to my room."

"But San-" Her little sister whined behind us.

"Go away, Jayden." But Jayden walked right in front of us before we could move and stuck out her hand to me. I figured what the hell, and shook it.

"Jayden Lopez." She told me. "Are you Santana's new girlfriend?" Now two people in the house had told me Santana's a lesbian. Santana looked murderous. "Santana's old girlfriend don't come around here no more. She was nice." I smiled at her.

"That's sad. I'm sorry. I'm not your sister's girlfriend, but I'll be around here a real lot." I didn't even notice my speech was changing to that of how my mother had raised us; Scott took it upon himself to change that, and if we didn't speak properly…

The girl smiled back, saying,

"Okay. You seem real nice too." Which snapped me out of my memory.

"I gotta go now." I told her. "Your sister and I gotta study."

"S'alright." She replied. "Will you play with me after?" I thought about that. Connor won't be home for a long while. And Mikey… anger bubbled up inside me when I thought of him. 'Damn him,' I thought. "He can take care of himself for once in his fucking life.' So I told the girl,

"Yeah. If you still here when we're done, I be down to play with you." It's then I realized I'd slipped into old ways and made the decision to correct myself. But looking down at the little girl… I didn't. Because she spoke just like I did, and no one berated her for it, or worse. I turned around and saw Santana was gone.

"Here, imma show you to our room." She said, and I followed her.

"Thanks." I told her.

"You're welcome." She said. "Promise you'll play?"

_Promise me, Mikey. Promise me you'll stop. _

Gulping, I replied, "I- I promise." She skipped away happily and I opened the door. Santana was lying on the bed in the corner, listening to her iPod. It must've been loud, because I could hear it loud and clear. It was one of my favorite songs. She didn't notice me, and I stood there listening.

_But there's a fine, fine line, between love…_

The music abruptly stopped and I looked up to see Santana once again glaring, at me this time. Her headphones were out and they and her iPod were now discarded on the table.

"Alright." She said, opening a notebook. "Can we get this shit over with?" I put my backpack down carefully on the ground and begin to slowly zip it open.

"Oh, for god's sakes." She snapped. "The place isn't made out of fucking china. Get your shit out and sit on the bed and _let's get this over with._" Even for Santana, it was a very extreme reaction, but she was beginning to remind me of myself, so I kept my mouth shut this time. We started to work, Santana awkward, uptight, and snapping at me any chance she gets. My patience was beginning to wear down.

"Okay, enough." I said after she made a particularly nasty comment. "I'm not going to tell anyone. Alright? Why would I out someone? I completely understand where you are. At the same time, you don't have to be so… _mean!_" She looked sufficiently shut down. Then,

"What do you mean, you understand?"

"You haven't heard?" She looked at me blankly. "That I'm a lesbian? That's why everyone treats me like shit, besides you and Kurt?" I laughed bitterly. "And now I know why you didn't. I thought you were _nice. _I thought you could actually be my friend." She was looking at me funny again, but this time it was different than before. She was almost staring at me… hungrily?

Before I knew what was happening she surged forward and catered my lips in hers. She pushed me down until I was laying down on the bed flat. I'd never kissed anyone. Not ever. And if this was how it felt like I wanted to do it over and over and over again. She broke apart from me, her eyes wide. She said,

"This never happened." And we got back to work.

* * *

**_KURT POV_**

"Are you serious? She _kissed _you?"

"Yeah." My friend replied, that stupid dopey smile that was beginning to annoy me on her face. "Yeah, she did."

"Did you play with her sister after?"

"Yeah, she was nice. Real nice. Wish I had a sister like that." Her leg begins to shake a but and she puts her pointer finger and thumb together, running them back and forth. She starts to blink, a lot, and then her eyes… are just empty. She's staring into space with empty eyes… as though she's not even there.

"Jordan!" I snap right in front of her face.

"Ah!" She cries, but she is back.

"Um, thanks." I don't know what I've done, and I don't want to have to do it again. Her leg is still shaking though, and I'm nervous for her. I want to bring her over, but… okay. _So. Dad probably won't even wake up_, one side of me says. _I mean, he hardly ever wakes up before even noon. And he didn't even wake up when I tripped on the stairs. _I don't give the other side a chance for rebuttal, because I say, "Do you want to come over?"

She looks surprised, but says, "Sure." She whips out her phone, texts someone (probably her parents) and we both get into my car.

"Wait." I say. "How are you going to get your brother's car back?"

"He's got two. He won't even notice. Don't worry about it." She doesn't want to talk about it and that's okay, so I plug in my music, telling her,

"If you don't like it, change it." Another one of my favorite songs begins to play.

**And then I found out how hard it is to really change. Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in. I just wanted the numb inside me to leave. No matter how fucked you get, there's always hell when you come back down. The funny thing is all I ever wanted I already had. There's glimpses of heaven in everything. In the friends that I have, the music I make, the love that I feel. I just had to start again.**

Her eyes light up, and she exclaims, "What is this? I've never heard it before!"

"It's Bring Me The Horizon's Hospital For Souls. Not my typical music, but I listen to it when I'm angry." Why did I tell her that? I'll never know. But the smile on her face at the music makes me happy.

Yes, Jordan is a strange girl. As Blaine is a strange boy. I resolve tonight: I have a year to find them out. And I'll do it if it kills me.

* * *

Yes, that is supposed to be much like Jordan's ending last chapter. And when she says Tony, she is remembering her "little brother"'s name wrong. Just wanted to make that clear. I honestly am a very impatient person so sorry it got dark so quickly and sorry S&J got together so quickly. Well, they're not together. But still. I didn't want to keep the storyline waiting another chapter... okay sorry for this. I hope you liked it. R&R pretty please?

-Sami


	3. Chapter 3 - Schadenfreude

In the song, **bold** is Jordan and _italics_ is Kurt. I really don't know about this chapter...

JORDAN POV

Monday, September 11th, 2009

Today when I get up and go to wake Mikey, I am confused to see that he's not in bed. Connor left early for work today; Mikey would not be with him, not with his nasty hangovers. A little worried, I head downstairs and when I reach the kitchen I screech and jump up in surprise. There is a man in the kitchen! He turns around.

"Jojo!" The man turns around, and oh my god.. it's Mikey? I voice my thought and he laughs.

"Hey, sis." He laughs. "Why so surprised?" I walk over to him and… there is a pan on the stove, and the fire on…

"Are you cooking!?" He laughs again.

"Yeah. Why so surprised?" He repeats. I just shake my head and wrap my arms around him.

"Oh, Mikey, you…" He hugs me back.

"Yeah, well… I figured I owed it to you…" I let go and look into the pan. He's making an omelet for me. I don't like eggs, but when he slides it onto a plate and hands it to me I eat it anyway. When I'm finished, I put the plate in the sink and - well shit. I got a glance at my watch and I'm late! I groan in frustration. For once it's my fault, not Mikey's or Toby's- or is his name Tony? Or Tommy or something? Whatever. That's going to bite me in the ass later. Even worse though, I have to walk today because Conner's not home. I was supposed to start out earlier today. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. I scramble upstairs to get ready and almost rush out the door.

"Jordan." Mikey calls before I can open the door. I turn around.

"Yeah?" He throws me a pair of keys. I look at him quizzically.

"Dad left me the car. Remember?" No, I'd completely forgotten. Grinning, I say,

"Thanks, Mikey."

I make it to school just on time. What perfect luck. I even missed the dumpster tosses because the jocks had to race to class. I'm sitting in homeroom when Kurt literally skips into class. I wonder what he's so happy about.

* * *

KURT POV

That Wednesday, Jordan had left in the early hours of the morning successfully without waking my Dad, of whom she hadn't asked about when she saw him, only,

"That your father?" Of which I confirmed and was grateful for her ability to keep to herself. Though there was one thing that was very odd, that echoed through my mind for hours. Jordan, of whom tossed and turned in her sleep, had kept muttering over and over again, "Mikey, mom, please, no!" And repeat, in any order one could think of. It makes me shudder to think of it, and I did not mention it to her in the morning.

Blaine is confusing me further. We'd been meeting at his house every day, so we didn't have to sneak in to mine. His parents never seemed to be around. He insisted they just work, somewhat too defensive. The house is very big, just as I had thought, with grand chandeliers and large rooms, fancy furniture, expensive paintings… Blaine's room is so big he doesn't seem to fit right into it. It almost seems like he shrinks away. So far I've learned he has an older brother Cooper who he's angry with, but won't tell me why and Cooper lives in Hollywood and is trying to make it as an actor. Blaine said he just tried out for some thing called Credit Score Ratings or something. His favorite color is turquoise, his favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla, but he loves it with hot fudge, too. His eyes are hazel. Yes, one might say I know this boy quite well. Now, this information is all well and good, mildly interesting. But these facts are about one sentence in a paragraph each. The problem is, every time I have the nerve to ask a serious question, or one that would actually get us somewhere, he diverts it and changes the subject. I don't know what I'm going to do about this paper, because at this rate, my thesis is going to have to be on what his favorite day of the week is. It's driving me insane.

Today I'm just finishing tying the last knot on my shoelaces- or bootlaces, rather. I'm actually quite happy; for some strange reason, on Thursday and Friday, the Glee Club and the Jocks had left me alone! It was amazing, and I was looking forward to a locker-slam and slushee and dumpster-toss free week. So I kiss my father on the cheek goodbye, even though he's asleep, leave his meds on the table with a note: Dad, take your Lithium! Don't skip! I mean it! Hopefully he'll listen and maybe he'll get out of bed!

Okay, Kurt. You're being much too optimistic. I arrive at school and get a good parking spot, and for once the jocks aren't out by the dumpsters! Yes, my hopes are rising tremendously. My phone buzzed just before I enter class. It's from… holy SHIT! It's from my Dad!

Hey Kurt, took my meds. Just thought you might want to know. I'm low, so I'm going out to get refills. He texted me. He fucking texted me! Yeah, he didn't say I love you or anything like a normal dad, but….he's going to the… now I won't have to pick them up tonight and…. You know what? I'm going to cook tonight! I'm going to make us a family dinner! Tears of happiness actually spring in my eyes and I jump up in the air. People give me funny looks but I don't care. I'm elated. Today is perfect. It is. For once something good is happening to me. I've always taken what was given to me, no questions; and now today, finally, I like what's in my hands. Grinning, I skip into homeroom and sit down next to Jordan, whistling happily. She gives me a strange look.

"Kurt Hummel, did you just fucking skip? Are you really giving into that many stereotypes? You're already a walking stereotype as it is!" She jokes, laughing at her own joke. She's speaking grammatically correctly, and I've found that means she's in a good mood. Maybe she's having a good day too. Yeah, the bullies agent been as nice to her as they have to me lately, but they're improving.

"But in all seriousness, you didn't get dumpster tossed either?" I shake my head and she grins as well. "Sweet! Maybe they finally got it through their thick skulls that we're not abominations!" I chuckle, because that's never going to happen, but maybe they've just realized it's not right to bully people. The bell rings, and unfortunately she has math first, and I have chemistry.* So we depart and go to our separate classes, but I am still smiling wide.

* * *

JORDAN POV

After school, Monday, September 11th, 2009

Since Mikey promised me he'd stay off drugs or and not drink when we were texting (okay, I was texting in class. So sue me) at least for that day, I invited Kurt over to my house. Kurt texted his Mom and we set off to my house, then the mall. ("I only go once in a while, but you are in need of a serious make-over, honey." To which I shoved him and he shoved me back.) We were almost to my car when we heard a voice behind us.

"Hey!" I look at Kurt, confused. There are two guys coming up to us: the tall african american jock who was sitting next to me my first day of English class, and another jock but with brown hair and brown eyes and was white.

"Shit, it's Azimio and Karofsky!" He hisses. Azimio and Karofsky? I have no idea what he's talking about. Mostly I just got treated like crap by the girls, except when the jocks threw me in dumpsters on the girls' orders. So I didn't really know them.

"Yo, Lady Hummel." The african-american dude greets Kurt.

"Hello, Azimio." Kurt replies coldly. "While I am enjoying your company very much, my friend and I have to go." I fumble for my keys when Kurt holds out his hand. Azimio watches the exchange with an amused smirk on his face. I finally find the keys, and just as I hand them to Kurt, Azimio plucks them right out of my hand and hands them to Karofsky.

"Oops. Sorry. My bad." Karofsky sniggers. I glare at him as they both walk away with the keys.

"Hey! Where are you going?" I call, following them. Kurt trails behind me. My heart sinks when I realize we are rapidly approaching the school dumpsters. All the jocks and Glee Club kids are there. There's a girl in a reindeer sweater who I've never met, looking angry, and she keeps bringing her fingers to her lips and I can see her lips moving when she brings them down, probably scolding herself. There's Quinn, who is one of my worst tormenters. There's Britney, who never seems to say anything, besides once when she whispered to me when her friends left, "You're a unicorn. Don't be scared." Which was nice, albeit a little weird and creepy. There were so many other teens, but when my eyes land on one certain girl my heart sinks further. Santana. Her eyes are cold and empty, she's tapping her foot and crossing her arms in front of her. I look her right in her cold eyes: _I'm so disappointed in you._ She gets the message and casts her orbs to the ground. This is very confusing, because I thought that she actually cared about me. I mean even though she would refuse to talk about anything else besides the project when we would stop making out, she would never smile at me in the halls, and we'd only known each other for a few days and... fuck. I'd made it all up in my head. Of course I did. What self respecting girl would like me? 'You stupid, stupid girl!' I yell at myself bitterly. 'Always so, so stupid.' And while I've been lost in my stupid head, the teens around us have been slowly creeping closer. Kurt looks furious, but he purses his lips as though he wants to keep his words locked inside. So I say exactly what he seems to be thinking.

"What the hell are you doing? If you want to hit us, then fucking hit us."

"We're not going to hit you, babe." I always wanted someone to call me that, but coming from Karofsky's mouth it's dirty and disgusting to me. "No, we won't hit you." He repeats. It's only then I see they are all passeing around big 32-once slushees. I gulp; I've never been slusheed before, but according to Kurt it's the not any fun. I see there are all different flavors, all different colors. I spot Blaine. He's wearing a malicious snarl and appears to be more excited about this than anyone else. And I look at Kurt, and he looks so, so hurt. He looks like someone killed his fucking puppy. But Kurt never had a puppy anyways. Glancing over to Santana, I see red when I see her clutching a large cherry slushee. And they come closer. All but her. Which confuses me even more, because now she does care? I'm still thinking about Santana when all of a sudden I am hit with something ice cold and my eyes are burning- and why is it still coming? It feels as though I'm getting frostbite on my nose, and my head begins to pound. Suddenly I am lifted up by some strong hands. I smell something nasty, and then I've landed in something mushy and even nastier and the smell is magnified. There is laughter but I can't tell where from, a car revving up. Going back and forth, back and forth, and more laughing. There's cheering, and lots of of it. Then, there is silence. Deafening silence.

I sense a body beside me, whimpering. I recognize the sound as...

"Kurt?" The boy coughs, a hacking cough that makes me wince.

"Hey." He croaks out.

"You alright?"

"Uh, yeah, just swallowed some of the shit." I know he's upset now; Kurt never curses, never with me, anyway. My friend coughs some more. We sit in silence, hardly able to see because of the corn syrup in our eyes, then,

"Hey, Jordan?" It's outside... and it's Santana.

"Go away, Santana!" I yell. "We're fine!"

"You're not fine!" She counters. "If you were fine you'd'a gotten out of that shithole a while ago." I hear some clanging and then the girl's head pops over the edge of the dumpster. She sticks out a hand, brushing my shoulder, which makes me blush like a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush. Luckily she is not focused on my face right now.

"Well, I'm trying to help you, get your ass up!" She insists.

"No, take Kurt first." I say. "Come on, Kurt."

"Yeah, come on, Princess." Kurt narrows his eyes, and all of a sudden I realize he's been crying, and his cheeks aren't just red from the slushees.

"My name is not Princess!" He says indignantly. "And I won't accept help from you. Ever." She shrugs.

"Fine. Rot in here for all I care. Rot in hell for all I care."

"Santana." I snap. "If you're going to be nice to me, then you're going to be nice to Kurt." She glares at me, rolls her eyes, and huffs but tells Kurt,

"I'm sorry. Now get your ass out of there. I don't like seeing my girlfriend in a dumpster." And them her eyes widen, and she stammers, "I- I didn't- I didn't mean to say that, I mean… I… I'm not dating Jordan! I'm not and if you tell anyone about this you'll be sorry!" We're all silent after that, but true to her word, Santana helps us out. I look her in the eye and say sincerely, "Thank you." She doesn't reply; she only turns her back and walks to get her slushed, which is still sitting on the ground. My anxiety reaches an all time high when Kurt follows her and snatches the slushee from her, staring with wide eyes, as though fascinated by an unseen creature.

"Do it." Santana mumbles quietly. "Just do it, okay?" And he does. He pours the slushee right on top of her head, having the decency to not throw it in her face. She's obviously never been slusheed before, but she handles it well; she does her best to push the ice and corn syrup out of her eyes and walks away silently. Kurt and I's eyes lock and we stand silently for a minute. Then the moment is broken and we begin to walk quietly to the school to clean up. I'm the one who breaks the silence.

"Were you crying?" I ask him.

"No." He says roughly. "No, I wasn't." I don't mention it as we walk over to get out backpacks from the ground (it turns out _that_ was what they had been running over with the cars) and to our lockers..

* * *

Kurt is listening to his iPod when I come out (been there done that, ha) from the girl's locker room. He'd let me borrow some of his clothes, because he always brought extra. They were just sweatpants and a tee-shirt, but I was grateful nonetheless. He's wearing more or less the same thing.

"What are you listening to?" I ask. He takes out an earbud.

"What?" I repeat my question. He looks embarrassed. "Oh you won't… you won't like it… it's kind of weird…" Common Kurt, lemme listen!" Before he can stop me I take one of his ear buds.

'Loud as the hell you, loud as the hell you want-' Kurt rips it from my ear.

"I told you, it's weird…" I laugh.

"Kurt Hummel, you like Avenue Q? I always thought you were so… innocent and… childlike and…" He shoves me.

"Shut up, Jordan."

"Hey, you know, I heard Mr. Shue brought in a speaker for the Glee Club," _Via Santana… _"And He leaves it there overnight."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" I don't answer and grab his hand, pulling him toward the choir room. I'd never been inside, but it was cute, with three rows of chairs and a whiteboard. It almost reminds me of the music room in my elementary school, with our teach,r Miss Chisim, who loved me because I could sing, but I hated _her_ with a passion. How she managed to make my favorite thing in the world at the time boring, I don't know. I don't really sing anymore but… today, it's just with my best friend. Best friend? WHere did I get that? SO after I sneak into Shue's office and steal the speaker, I inquire,

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we friends?" He smiles at me.

"I think we're best friends, Jordan."* I smile back.

"Okay, so just plug your iPod in… alright, I love this show, which one's your favorite?" We choose a song and I call out right before it starts,

"I call Gary!"

"Oh, come on!" He sits down on a chair. I start to sing, for the first time in god knows how long.

**Right now you are down and out**

**And feeling really crappy**

_I'll say._

**And when I see how sad you are…**

**it sort of makes me… happy!**

_Happy!_

**Sorry Nicky, human nature, nothin' I can do**

I shrug and grin at Kurt.

**It's Schadenfreude…**

_He began to get up…_

_**Making me feel glad that I'm not you!**_

I shove him down and begin to giggle. This one was always my favorite.

_Well that's not very nice, Gary!_

Kurt scowls at me for pushing him and I smirk.

**I didn't say it was nice! But everybody does it!**

**Did 'cha ever clap when a waitress falls and drops a tray of glasses**

_Yeah…_

**And ain't it fun to watch figure skaters fallen' on their asses?**

_Sure!_

**Don't you feel all warm and cozy, watchin' people out in the rain,**

_You bet!_

**That's**

**_Schadenfreude!_**

**People taking pleasure in your pain.**

We act out the characters' lines, and laugh when Kurt says, "That is German!" We don't even notice when Blaine comes and stairs in the doorframe.

_Watching a vegetarian being told she just ate chicken_

**Or watching a frat boy realize just what he put his dick in!**

Being teenagers, that one makes us laugh even more.

_Being on an elevator when somebody shouts, hold the door!_

_**No!**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

**Fuck you lady, that's what stairs are for!**

We both nearly fall over laughing- Kurt lights up when he sings… and he really can sing well.

_Ooh… how about straight A students getting B's?_

**Ex's getting STD's!**

_Waking doormen from their naps!_

**Watching tourists reading maps!**

_Football players getting tackled!_

**CEO's getting shackled!**

_Watching actors never reach __**the ending of their Oscar's speech!**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

_**Schadenfreude! **_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

_****_At the next part of the song, I feel a weird sense of melancholy and Kurt seems to become sad too.

**The world needs people like you and me who've been knocked around by fate**

**'Cause when people see us, they don't wanna be us, and that makes them feel great!**

_We provide a vital service to society, __**you and me**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

_**Making the word a better place...**_

_**Making the world a better place...**_

_**Making the world a better place...**_

_**To be!**_

**S-C-H-A-D-E-N-F-R-E-U-D-E!**

And we both collapse in a fitful of giggles along with Gary and Nicky.

"Wow." Kurt says. "You can really sing."

"So can you." I reply. Kurt purses his lips, and asked nervously,

"Please don't tell anyone. I don't... I don't like to sing, and I don't want anyone to find out I can. This was a onetime thing."

"A bit late for that." We hear a voice snicker behind us. We whirl around to see Blaine standing there smirking.

"You know, you guys are actually halfway decent." Kurt clenches his fists.

"Wow, Blaine! You know, I can die happy now because I now have your approval! Yay! My purpose in life has been fulfilled!" Blaine scowls.

"No need to be a bitch."

"No need to be a- god, Blaine, don't you even feel anything at all? You're not _sorry _at all?"

"It was just a bit of fun."

"Fun? How would you feel if everyone was planning an elaborate scheme on you and your best friend and you had no idea about it, and on the one day you were fucking _happy _for once in your fucked-up life, a boy you thought actually cared about you _ruin it?" _Blaine shrugs.

"It's called acting. Look, I didn't come in here for useless drama. I came in here to tell you guys to try out for Glee Club. Like I said, you're actually halfway decent and if you practiced maybe you could be decent, hell, even _good." _And the stupid bastard tries to leave, but Kurt stops him:

"We'll never join Glee Club. Too bad you'll have to miss out." Blaine turns around.

"We'll see."


	4. Chapter 4 - Tryouts

I'm really sorry for this chapter. I've been delaying putting it up because no matter how hard I try, I cannot get it right! Ack! It's really bad, and again I'm sorry, but I had to write it- I couldn't take it out. 'Enjoy'? Songs used are "Your Song" By Elton John, which I always thought was a wonderful love song and I loved it as a kid (well, I pretty much am a kid, but you get what I mean) and Jordan sings "Girl Anachronism" by The Dresdan Dolls. That whole album is very eerie and some of the songs are haunting and mysterious, but I love them. Just don't listen to it if you're prone to nightmares. What is it with me and these awful, terribly long author's notes? I guess I'm procrastinating you reading the below chapter. Well, too bad for me because I'm going to stop blabbing on and on. Adios for now :)

-Sami

* * *

_**KURT POV- Tuesday, September 12th, 2009- After school**_

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm going to be auditioning for the role of Glee Club member."*

I know what I said. I do. But when I went home and to bed that night, I found I could not sleep. I tossed and turned remembering memories with my mother. When I was little, I always wanted to be a singer- I loved Patti Lupone and Whitney Houston the best. My dad would protest, saying it was 'gay' (oh the irony), but my mother would glare at him and say lowly, "We talked about this, Burt." And my dad wouldn't say anything else about it for a few days.

If you hadn't guessed, my mother (Elizabeth was her name. It was also what I changed my middle name to when she died) was the polar opposite when it came to the singing. Since we couldn't afford singing lessons or anything of the sort, my mother and I used to sing together when our favorite songs came on to the radio, or when I was older, to a big, bulky iPod. Her voice was beautiful. I have an old home video that was filmed at my cousins' house of me and her singing together. They had a grand piano at their house (of which three-year-old me found incredible) so we sang and she played "Your Song." My mother was an amazing pianist as well. It's the only video I have of her singing, though, or of us singing together. I must have watched it a thousand times, and a hundred more last night. And I remembered faintly what my mother had said to me after that performance.

"KK, I want you to promise me something. Can you look at me?" I looked into my mother's wonderful glauz eyes that matched my own. "I want you to promise never to stop doing what you love, no matter what happens and what people say. And KK, I can tell you love singing. Even if you don't, that's okay. I mean with anything you love. Because if you love it, it's worth it. Okay? Promise me?"

"Promise." We linked our pinkies together and when my mother let go, smiling, she called to my cousins and aunts and uncles that were now watching television in the next room,

"Who wants ice cream?" All of my cousins enthusiastically leaped up and my aunts and uncles followed, each respective pair or trio of siblings bickering between themselves.

So I had asked- okay, pleaded- with Jordan this morning to try out for Glee with me that afternoon. She had blatantly refused.

"I ain't-" She lets out a frustrated groan. Today she had been trying to correct herself with her grammar, and it wasn't working so well.

"I'm not going to work with that scumbag known as Blaine Anderson." She scowled as though reviving a particularly painful memory- which she probably was.

But I decided I must honor my mother. I used to love to sing... so here I stand, in front of the club, which includes pretty much all of Jordan and I's respective

tormentors. Except, there are two I have never seen bully anyone- a boy in a wheelchair with brown hair and glasses(I think his name is Art?) and a short african american girl wearing a shirt that makes me cringe and has a nose piercing. I mean, Rachel Berry never really bullied anyone, but from the way I've heard her talk to other people and from the gossip, her personality is atrocious. So I stare at the african american girl while I speak as to be less nervous.

"I- I- um," What's wrong with me? I'm never nervous. But then, I haven't performed for anyone on an actual stage since Mom. Okay, get your shit together. You are Kurt Hummel. You can do it.

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be singing Your Song by Elton John."

_**JORDAN POV**_

I sigh heavily as I pack up my books. I'd gone to the boy's locker rooms to box a bit (I'm no good, but sometimes when I'm mad I figure what the hell) and now I'm going home to a most likely wasted Mikey. After I had driven home yesterday, I had come home to find Mikey had broken his promise yet again. That time, I didn't even have the energy to do anything about it. Thank god Conner's on a business trip.

I can't believe Kurt is trying out for Glee Club. I love to sing too, but...

Suddenly I hear a high and angelic voice floating down the hall.

**It's a little bit funny...**

I drift down the hall, following the sound of the voice.

_**KURT POV**_

**It's a little bit funny**

**This feeling inside**

**I'm not one of those who can easily hide**

That's not true now, not for me at least. But my mother wore her heart on her sleeve. I could always tell when something was wrong.

**I don't have much money but**

**Boy if I did**

**I'd buy a big house where we both could live**

Now, thinking about it, this song could have meant much more to my mother than I knew.

**If I was a sculptor**

**But then again, no,**

**Or a man**

**Who makes potions in a travelling show I**

**Know it's not much but it's the best I can do**

**My gift is my song and**

**This one's for you**

I can't believe how amazing it feels to really sing. Despite the feeling of cold eyes all focused on me, I smile.

**And you can tell everybody**

**This is your song**

**It may be quite simple but**

**Now that it's done**

**I hope you don't mind**

**I hope you don't mind**

**That I put down in words**

**How wonderful life is while you're in the world**

My smile fades because life had been wonderful while my mother was in the world.

All of a sudden, the door bursts open and a familiar voice calls,

"You got room for one more? I mean, the _infamous_ Blaine Anderson invited me here, and that's gotta count for somethin', right?" The music abruptly stops and we all turn to see a scowling Jordan sauntering down the aisle cockily. She stops at Blaine, who's on the end of his row. "Hey, buddy." She says sarcastically, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. The boy squawks in protest. "Glad to see me?" She doesn't wait for an answer, and glances on the piano on the stage. "Can I use that?" Mr. Schuester nods dumbly so Jordan jumps up on the stage ("Take a seat, Kurtie-poo." Of which I do, right behind Blaine.) and when the piano player moves aside begins to play an eerie, slow melody that becomes slamming and fast. But it gets even more creepy when she starts to sing.

**You can tell by the scars in my arms**

**And the cracks in my hips**

**And the dents in my car**

**And the blisters on my lips...**

Jordan's hands abruptly still and she stands on the stage with her fingers hovering over the keys, her heavy breaths echoing throughout the silent auditorium. For the first time I really take notice of her features: she looks hispanic, with olive coloured skin, and long, wavy brown hair that goes almost all the way down her back. She has a small, curved nose and pink full lips. Her eyes, which are usually brown, shine with gold in the spotlight, and her body heaves with large breaths she takes from the adrenaline of the performance. She turns to us.

"Was that any good?" We all gape at her. A shell shocked Schue nods again, then shakes his head to snap him out of his apparent talent-induced trance. Yeah, Jordan can be a bit much.

"Yeah, that was great! Uh, welcome to Glee Club, you two! We're going to the choir room now; come on, guys." Jordan lags behind, so I walk on my own until the girl I had stared at during my performance treks up beside me and smiles.

"I'm Mercedes." She says. "And you're..." After a moment's hesitation I reply,

"Kurt." And smile back.

"You were really good." I blush, and curse my pale features because I probably look like a tomato.

"Thanks. I haven't sung in a while and-"

"We could tell!" Someone screeches behind us. We both turn to see Rachel Berry walking up to us. Mercedes groans.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Berry, back the hell off." Rachel scowls but continues as though nothing had been said in a snooty voice,

"You're good, I guess, but you need vocal training. Desperately." Mercedes rolls her eyes and pushes by the girl, and I follow.

"Ugh. Sorry about her. She thinks she's better than everyone, but she's not, really."

"Yeah, I've heard she's got an awful personality. And I've heard her squawking in the halls; she's kind of mean, if you ask me, and I'm best friends with Jordan. She's very sarcastic. Then again, so am I." Why am I still talking? Since when do I talk about anything? I mean, Jordan and I talk, but we don't_ talk_, if you get my drift. Speak of the devil:

"Kurt!" I turn again to see Jordan. I grin at her.

"Hey! You showed! I can't believe-"

"Who's this?" She's glaring at Mercedes, and crossing her arms. My smile falters.

"This is Mercedes. She's cool." Jordan raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

"Mmhm, and does she know you're-" I cut her off.

"Look Jordan, I don't know what crawled up your ass, but if you're going to be all PMSy than go find someone else to talk to."

"Please Kurtie, you're one to talk." I'm about to retaliate when Mercedes interrupts,

"Does she mean do I know you're gay? Everyone knows. Aren't you, too?" She says, addressing Jordan, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I don't really care. Why should I?"

"You don't give a shit about Kurt being from rainbow unicorn land? What planet are you from?" Jordan asks sarcastically, and I breath a sigh of relief. Mercedes stares at her blankly.

"She's joking."

"Oh."

"I like you." Jordan decides, and by this time, we are at the choir room. I glance at her nervously, and she gives me a reassuring smile. It's going to be fine. Glee Club's going to be fine. Now I just have to face Blaine.


	5. Interlude One

This is in no way considered a chapter in my eyes. It's not really an interlude- I guess you could call it that maybe kinda sorta? Props to anyone who recognizes that last bit by the way ;) But I labeled it as an interlude, because in the actual story story, if you know what I mean, there is no Blaine POV. So I just wanted to put this in, especially because it took me so long to update for chapter four... so this is just a little thing. I hope you like it. I certainly like it much more than the chapter prior. R&R?

-Sami

* * *

You know, people think it's easy to be me. They think, Blaine Anderson. Lead singer of the Glee Club. Smart. Captain of the football team. Teacher's favorite. Alright, enough of my achievements. We'd be here all day. And I'm not being conceited if it's all true. Also, I am, I like to think, the most popular boy in school.

Alright, enough. What was my point? Oh yeah- hard life. Well, my life isn't all rainbows and butterflies (that's Kurt). I have one huge problem in my life: my no-good, stuck-up, snotty, ignorant-

And that's enough. I could also go on all day with insults for them. But I'm talking about my self-obsessed (okay, one more) _parents._

One might think,_ 'Oh, Blaine, everyone has family issues! Don't think you're so special!'_

Well, I do. Why do you think I have so many achievements? My parents are never satisfied! The have this sick _need_ to make me work until I'm so exhausted I just want to curl up in a hole and die. But _I_ have this sick obsession with pleasing them and fulfilling their wishes and meeting all of the standards they have set for me. Which is impossible. There is so much pressure! Don't you see? So don't think my life is so wonderful and easy.

You know, I never once mentioned the boy sitting in that stupid chair in the choir room.


	6. Chapter 5

Don't know about this, hope it's okay... R&R?

_**Chapter 6**_

_**Monday, September 18th, 2009**_

_**JORDAN POV**_

Usually, I walk into school confident (or at least looking it) and, though I hide it, excited to talk to Kurt and not Mikey.

Today? I walk in late and not caring, slouching and nervous and I'm pretty sure it shows. Head down, I slink into Miss Stadler's room without a pass. She raises an eyebrow at me, but continues her enthusiastic lecture. I kick Santana (who is sitting on my right) under the desks. She sends me an angry glare that says,

'What the hell do you want?' I just smirk and roll my eyes at her. She looks ahead at Miss Stadler even though she never pays attention. So I glance at my nails and begin picking at my cuticles, a nervous habit that began when my damn stepfather made me cut the 'disgusting' habit of biting my nails from my apparently long list of faults. Suddenly I feel a nudge on my right leg. Now it's me who looks over and glares, but I take the note in Santana's hand under the desk and open the folded paper.

'You okay? You look like the boy whose mother just found a box of condoms under his mattress.' While the analogy puts a slight smile on my face, and my heart pounds in my chest because she cares, my brain is asking what this means because Santana doesn't do feelings. Even though we're stuck in this stupid rut in our… - relationship? Friendship? Acquaintanceship? - still, and she never even said a word about when she called me her girlfriend, she even said so. No feelings. So why the hell is she asking me if I'm okay?

I look over to her. Today, actually, she does seem slightly different, her hair a bit messy, bags under her eyes, and she has a small only somewhat noticeable slouch. I bite my bottom lip in worry, but write on the note,

'Please, I'm fine. Since when do you care?' I never get a response.

* * *

_** KURT POV**_

It's last period. I hate math, especially having it last period because it's like the end of the day is mocking me. I also especially hate AP Calculus, because one, I suck at math. And two, Blaine is apparently great at math, and the stupid show-off is in my class always rubbing his A's in my face. Not that I don't get A's too. But I have never seen that kid get even an A-, and he makes sure I never forget it.

Today, though, Blaine reminds me of his fellow football teammates in… well, any class really, sitting with his chair out and feet on the table, raising his hands and resting his head against them.

He closes his eyes and his mouth drops slightly. Is he… asleep? I stifle a laugh when he lets out a small snore that I can hear from the other side of the room.

My teacher crosses over to the left side of the room and folds his arms crossly. Blaine's hands start to slip and his head begins to dip back.

"Mr. Anderson!" Mr. O'Donnell barks. There is no response. Mr. O'Donnell snaps in Blaine's face, but to no avail. He is beginning to get angry, and I can't wait for the show we'll get when Blaine wakes up. Mr. O'Donnell loves to yell.

Azimio, from behind him, flicks him on the head, and miraculously, the fool wakes up. He jolts and exclaims,

"Ah!"

"Glad you're here to join us, Mr. Anderson." The teacher says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I expect a mumble and apology or something of the sort, but Blaine snorts,

"Well, my dreams were much more interesting than this class, so I'm not quite as excited." Mr. O'Donnell looks astonished and I'm sure I look the same.

"Mr. Anderson! I am appalled by your behaviour! You're usually such a good student! I'll have to write you up." I'm sure the teacher thinks this will affect Blaine's behaviour, but he surprises the both of us.

"I don't care. What gave you the impression I did?" Mr. O'Donnell opens his mouth to speak, but it hangs open like a fish as Blaine continues. "I mean, come on. It's meaningless. Even if we get all A's on these stupid quizzes and tests, or even on our report cards, it won't matter. We won't ever use this shit in our lives anyway. Calculus." Blaine snorts. "Who needs it?" I think he's about to be sent to Figgin's office, but again he doesn't give the teacher a chance to do what he's about to do; Blaine walks out of the classroom with a self-satisfied smirk on his face but I could swear a hint of tears in the corner of his eyes.

* * *

_** JORDAN POV**_

After a long day of hellish classes, my mood is at an all time low. I decide to go find Santana. Maybe she's in the mood for a little bit of... fun. If that's all I can get…

I walk over to her locker, on the complete opposite side of the school. While I'm waiting for her to come back, the wonderful little Miss Perfect, Quinn Fabray, prances her skinny little ass over to the locker.

She looks me up and down,

"What the hell are you wearing?" She smirks.

"Um, clothes. You should try it sometime…" I snap back. She scowls.

"Shouldn't you be going home? Are you asking to get thrown in a dumpster?"

"Well-"

"Not that I care or anything but-"

"Well, see I was looking for-"

"Let me guess- Santana? What are you… in love with her or something? You like, follow her around- news flash, it's creepy. And guess what, she's not interested!"

"We're friends, Fabray-"

"Friends, ha! She doesn't even care about you! Who would be stupid enough to even look at you?"

"You don't know that..."

"Yes actually, I do! You see, we were talking and somehow your name came up. I remember Santana, your so called friend started telling me how much she hates you and your little creepy stalker ass!"

I hate this. I hate everything about this. But most of all, I hate Quinn Fabray. I hate her, and her perfect little life, and I hate myself for being so stupid to think Santana ever did care about me and I hate Quinn even more for being right! Tears burn in my eyes but I hiss,

"You don't know anything. And apparently you're stupid enough to look at me." It's lame, I know, but I can't bring myself to care. And it's spat with so much venom she looks like I just hit her.

I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Before she can respond, I run as fast as I could down the hall, looking for a bathroom or an empty room, or... something!

I finally pass the locker rooms, and run in.

It immediately feels wrong, but I don't care and I take a seat on a bench and cry. I haven't cried for real in a long, long time. Sure, I guess I've teared up, but everyone does…

Suddenly I hear a soft sob. And it's not my own. I raise my head, and look around. Suddenly I take in the smell wafting up my nose- Axe that tries to hide strong B.O. and fails and something I can't tell what it is and really don't want to- and realize I'm in the boy's locker room. I had been in such a rush I didn't notice. I rub at my most likely red eyes, and stand up and creep in deeper into the locker rooms. The smell grows stronger, and look, I'm not one of those "Ewwww! What's that? Gross!" Squeally kind of girls when they see a bug, or the kind of girl to puke at the sight of puke.

But I find myself gagging at the smell.

"Hello?" I look around, and spot someone curled up in a ball just outside one of the showers. I feel so bad for them… they look like just a scrawny little freshman… maybe they got their first dumpster tossing, or maybe cause they're a boy they got punched. Been there.

"Hey. Kid." I'm not trying to be harsh, but I guess that's how it comes out. He doesn't raise his head, but I hear a muffled,

"Please go away. I don't know who you are but I really want you to leave me alone." That's when my heart breaks; I'm not really sentimental but I really want to help him.

"Come on, I just want a name. I just wanna help. I don't bite. Not 'less you're gonna toss me in a dumpster." I joke. The kid starts to wipe his face, and looks up and… holy shit.

"Jordan?" The boy's eyes are widened and he looks horrified. Horrified or terrified, I don't know.

"Hey, Blaine." This is meant to sound hostile but I can't really with his eyes still bloodshot, and his cheeks red and puffy and shiny with all the tears, and with him just standing there sniffling and looking like he wants to die. "I, um," I feel so awkward and I rub my neck and shift on my feet. "I uh, are you okay?" And it's funny, something happens in his eyes. They turn from terrified to that normal cold expression. They seem to turn from bright, hazel eyes to these cold, brown looking ones. And it's funny, even with those eyes still a little bloodshot, and his hair messy and completely ungelled, black curls falling onto his face, and said face blotchy and a bit sickly looking, I don't feel sorry for him anymore.

"I'm fucking fine, Jordan. You know you don't care." I bite my lip and now all thoughts of helping or talking to the boy are definitely gone. So I turn my back to go, but then just as he'd done to me and Kurt in the choir room that afternoon, I turn around and I say just like him, all stuck-up and self-important,

"You're right. I don't." And I turn on my heels and leave without a second thought. Besides, if no one cares- fine. I don't care either. Who needs them?

Mikey left for Dalton this morning, and I guess that therapist Connor made us go to once would say I was upset because of that. But that's not true.

I don't give a damn about Mikey.

I don't.

And I don't give a damn about Santana, either.

_**KURT POV**_

My day was uneventful. Except for Blaine's big show in calculus, I didn't even see Jordan today, which sucked, and Blaine never even came back so I couldn't even see him get yelled at. Sorry, that was mean. I shouldn't like seeing people get yelled at.

"Hey Dad, I'm home!" I yell, hoping this might wake him up. I trudge into the kitchen and out my heavy bag down on the floor, promising myself I'll pick it up later. Dad's medication is sitting on the counter, just where I left it that morning.

"Dad!" I call again, this time a bit annoyed. "You didn't take your meds!" I walk over to the couch where Dad is laying, admittedly strangely still.

"Dad?" I shake his and he doesn't open his eyes. "Dad!" My heart rate is beginning to climb up, but when I press my hand to his chest his is no where to be found. My eyes widen and I rush over to the phone.

_9-1-1…_

"Hello, what is your emergency?"


End file.
